PAE
by J. J. Bean
Summary: The name WILL change in the future! But this is the alternate ending of 'Pancakes'; it's a whole new plot now! Bobby confesses his love to Jubilee... and then - read and find out! JUBBY/Bobilee, and KURT! T for slight violence to follow
1. Pancakes

I did it! I did it! Hah! I finally did it! I made the alternate ending! I'd like to see you try and kill me now **Tobz**! It's out there and there's nothing you can do! Mwa hahahahaha!

I have a thing for mismatching music: here I am, plotting Jubilee's death by Bobby's hands, and I'm listening to "Love of my Life" by Declan… ah well. Live and let live. Or is it? Nyeh hehehe!

Disclaimer: Can't be called plagiarism from 'Pancakes' because I wrote both of them! And I'm not the actual owner of X-Men, are you kidding me?

All right, so for those of you who read 'Pancakes', this chapter will just be like a refresher, but there's nothing to distract from the alternate ending. The only thing similar is the name of the chapter, which is named 'Pancakes'. But this story has a new plotline! And it begins….. now.

* * *

Pancakes

* * *

Jubilee couldn't sleep. Almost everyone in the mansion had a sleepless night at some point, and she was no exception. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, imprinted on the back of her lids. Even staring at the ceiling, he was there, smiling and laughing, impossibly cute with his boyish charm and impish grin. She couldn't help the way her heart quickened every time he came near, how she just about died when he touched her, gave her that annoyingly addictive smirk. She wanted to kiss him blind and declare to the world that he was hers whenever she saw him, to be his girl and no one else's. She couldn't get him out of her head.

_No, no, no._ She thought, sitting up and putting her head in her hands. _This can't be happening._

She couldn't help it, but… she was in love with her best friend.

And she knew it wasn't just some little crush – that had been when they were younger, several years ago. Glances that may or may not have meant anything, flirting in every other conversation, and it'd just never passed. It'd evolved into something more, and she hadn't even noticed. And she couldn't stand it.

Deciding that sleep was hopeless, she resolved to get an… 11:24 snack. Close enough to midnight. She rubbed her arms, the early November temperatures freezing her bare feet as she left the warm comfort of her blankets. She padded down to the kitchen, making as little noise as possible, even though some lights were shining from under doors.

_What to eat, what to eat,_ she pondered, surveying the kitchen. She opened the fridge and stared at its contents for a second before closing it, only to reopen it a moment later and replay the process. _Not leftovers… not cereal… cookies? Hmm, pancakes._

Not feeling motivated enough to make them from scratch, she grabbed a box of mix and proceed to occupy herself with the process of pancake making. She heard someone enter the kitchen, but didn't look up to see who it was. He or she opened the fridge, then closed it, then reopened it, much like she had. She felt the presence move closer and look over her shoulder.

"Pancakes?"

She had to resist flinching at his voice. For some inexplicable reason, she felt her cheeks heat up, and tugged self-consciously at her _short _shorts. With her long, faded T-shirt almost completely covering them, stopping just barely under her butt, it looked like she wasn't wearing anything underneath. She started wondering what on Earth had possessed her to wear this combination so late in the fall. He, on the other hand was wearing a white wife-beater that accentuated his muscles and boxer shorts. Typical at the mansion any other time of year, but being Iceman and all, it was fine and still, y'know… totally hot.

She looked at the shining linoleum and nodded, trying to keep distracting thoughts out of her head. Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, subconsciously aware that it'd slide back out in a moment.

"Yeah, I couldn't… sleep…" she trailed off as she glanced upwards and got sidetracked by his handsome face. She turned back to her pancakes, biting her cheeks in an attempt to control her blush. "Want one?"

"Sure," Bobby replied nonchalantly. "I'll get the syrup."

"'Kay." Out of the corner of her eye she watched his muscles ripple under the light cotton as he reached up into the cabinet to retrieve the sweet topping. She was practically drooling. She turned the heat off before she could burn herself by not paying attention and grabbed two plates. She dished out the pancakes and set them both on the counter, hopping up besides them.

"OJ?" Bobby offered her a glass.

"Thanks," she said, giving him a small smile. She reached out to take the glass, but at the last second, he moved the glass a bit further back. Jubilee frowned and reached forward again, only to have it moved just out of reach. She was quite aware of Bobby's amused expression, but she chose to ignore it. Reaching out again, she overbalanced and tumbled from her perch, crashing headlong into Bobby.

She reflexively put her hands up to catch herself and found herself staring up into the laughing grey eyes that had been haunting her those past couple of nights, her breath turning shallow. He grinned and raised an eyebrow.

"So, was it for me or the orange juice?" He asked, sparking a furious blush on her cheeks. Suddenly very aware of her hands on his chest, she hastily moved to right herself, but he held her wrist in place, still smiling. There was a moment where they just stared at each other, Jubilee spellbound by the light dancing in his eyes. Slowly, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

Entranced, she took her hand back, the blush burning her cheeks with a vengeance. Abruptly, the words that had left his mouth ages ago registered in her brain, and she started. "The orange juice."

She smirked at the flash of befuddlement that crossed his features for a moment, before settling in a mirror image of her own expression. She beckoned for the glass, and he passed it to her, his fingers lingering over hers for a split second longer than necessary. She ignored the tingling in her fingertips and covered her face with the glass as she raised it to her lips, surreptitiously watching Bobby leaning against the island over the rim. Before she knew it, she'd drained the cup and was holding an empty glass.

"More?"

"Please."

Bobby refilled her glass and she took a sip.

"Good pancakes, by the way." She hadn't even noticed him with a plate despite her 'observations'.

"They're just a mix," she said. He shrugged.

The sound of shuffling feet drew their attention, and they turned to see Kurt standing in the doorframe, bleary-eyed and looking quite confused. They stood in silence for a while, regarding one another.

"Pancake?" she proffered, holding her untouched plate of pancakes out. The fuzzy mutant nodded, quietly padding forward to receive it.

"Danke," he said, walking back out with his midnight snack.

Jubilee's attention left Kurt as soon as he left the room, sliding back to Bobby, who had an eyebrow raised in question.

"Not hungry," she shrugged in explanation. She swung her legs back and forth, mulling over her juice. "What brings you down here, anyway?" She asked suddenly.

"Couldn't sleep, same as you," he said, though he looked a _bit_ too guilty for that to be the whole story. She gave him a look that was as accusing as could be without actually calling him a liar outright.

"Okay, well, I…" he fidgeted. Wait… was he blushing? Bobby, prankster extraordinaire, did not blush. "I heard you coming down here, and thought I'd… keep you company…."

Bobby's blush caught on, and Jubilee averted her gaze. How sweet. "Thanks," she said softly. A slightly awkward silence ensued, Jubilee rubbing her arms in an attempt to get warmer. Even though she could practically hear her comfy bed calling out to her, she was reluctant to leave Bobby's company, especially since he'd come down just for her.

"Cold?" It was more a statement than a question, though Jubilee could detect a hint of smugness in his voice.

"Yeah," she laughed humorlessly.

"I'd imagine, wearing _that,_" he jibed, smirking.

"Shuddup," she grumbled, once again very conscious of what she was wearing. She made an effort to stop her outward displays of cold, though she'd already admitted to it. "'S fine."

"I dunno, you still look a bit chilled. Last time I checked, there was only one mutant who went by Iceman, and that's me," he pressed, his smirk growing.

"Okay, it's cold," she restated, hopping off the counter top and putting her glass down with a bit more force than absolutely necessary. "And I am going someplace warmer."

She stormed past him, but before she could even get two steps away, he'd grabbed her hand and pulled her back. They found themselves in the familiar position of being face to face, his hands over hers on his chest. She felt her breath stop altogether at their close quarters, and her heart rate accelerated past any possibly healthy BPM.

"Stay a little longer," he breathed. The urge to reach up and close the distance between their lips was incredibly strong now, and it took all the self-control she had _not_ to. She blinked, vainly to break the spell he had over her and regain organization of her thoughts. It was infuriating, really, the way he could control and manipulate her, even though he didn't know it.

She slowly exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding and placed her head against his chest. His hands slid around her and pressed her even closer in a tight embrace.

"You know, for someone who's famed for being the king of cold, you're very warm," she mumbled into his shirt. He laughed, and she liked the feel of the deep vibrations travelling through his chest.

"And is that supposed to be a compliment or insult?" He queried.

"Neither," Jubilee answered. "Just an observation of the neutral variety."

He chuckled, though she didn't understand the reasoning behind it, but didn't voice her thoughts. She just enjoyed being in his arms, thinking how right this felt*. It was in this position that Jubilee drifted into a semi-conscious state and didn't notice that Bobby was talking until she abstractedly came to the conclusion he was purring. But of course, people don't purr, and upon realizing this, she finally recognized the rumbling in his chest as words.

Slowly, as the vibrations through his chest ceased, the words he'd been saying filtered through the haze fogging her mind. A lazy smile spread across her face, and before she could consciously register her actions, four words escaped her lips in a whisper:

"I love you, Bobby."

Then, realization dawned like the sun in the east and hit her like a boulder to the head. She jumped, trying to pry herself away from him, but found herself trapped in Bobby's iron grip. "But I love my bed more, so – " her stuttering was interrupted by a soft kiss to the lips, which effectively stunned her.

"I love the way you stutter when you slip up," Bobby said, and Jubilee remained frozen at the sound of his voice. "And the way you light up when you're excited, and the way you blush when someone compliments you." He tilted her chin up so she would be look at him. "And the way you dance to music no one else can hear, it makes me want to you hear it, too. It's like nothing can ever make you sad, and that's the way you make me feel when I'm around you. It's like I can take on the world and nothing can bring me down, except you. You're my only weakness, Jubes," his voice became a whisper as the distance between their lips grew smaller. "And that's why… I have to kill you."

* * *

Ooh! A cliffie! Yes, I am in a particularly sadistic mood right now. Very eeeevil…. But don't worry, I'll update soon…. Mehehehe!

J. J. Bean


	2. Frying Pans

And thank you to **theevilhillbilly** for your support :) even though this would've been posted without you lol jk

So I'm lying in bed developing the beginning of this chapter, so I'm thinking, "Gotta write it down! Gotta write it down! BUT I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE MY BED!" I can't believe it, but I got up at _seven-freaking-o'clock_ to write this for you! On a weekend! It's at times like this when I _really_ wish I had a laptop… of the MacBook variety… Mom and Dad, if you ever read this, that's what I want for my birthday!

Disclaimer: If I don't even own a laptop, do you think I'd own X-Men?

* * *

Frying Pans

* * *

She hadn't noticed the change until it was too late. Distracted by his lips, she'd almost forgotten that there were words coming out. His breath had turned icy and nipped at her cheeks. His arms around her hand turned into a cage, and she looked, terrified, into the face of a loved one she didn't recognize. His cold grey eyes stared mercilessly down at her, twinkling in laughter at some sick joke.

"Who, who are you?" the words escaped her mouth in a breath of warm air. It clouded against his translucent skin. The room had become unbearably cold, and she trembled in his grip.

"Me?" He asked the question with amusement. "I'm Bobby Drake, Iceman."

"Yuh-your not Bobby," she shivered, and despite her fear, she kept her voice firm.

He chuckled humorlessly. "You'd better believe it."

A scream echoed through the mansion.

"What the hell was that for?" he hissed, clapping his frozen hand over her mouth and pulling her so her back was against him.

But Jubilee was having none of that. She squirmed and kicked, elbowing him in the abdomen, slamming her head back against his, and bit his fingers. Though try as she might, she couldn't break free of the ice mutant.

"Now, now, Jubes," the not-Bobby grunted. "It would make things a whole lot easier if you just -"

In a last-ditch effort to escape his hold, Jubilee donkey-kicked him in the groin. "What? Lay down and died?" she snarled venomously as she stumbled away from him.

"I was gonna say 'cooperated', but that works, too," he replied just as icily, straightening up to his full height.

Jubilee backed away from his glare, arming herself with the same frying pan she'd used to make pancakes. "Stay away," she warned.

"Or you'll what? Hit me over the head with a frying pan?" he sneered.

"You know, I just might do that."

He lifted his hand, palm facing towards her, but instead of a pillar of ice, as she'd been expecting, he chilled the air even more, frost creeping along the floor and ceiling in her direction. It swiftly covered all surfaces with a crisp layer of ice, and when Jubilee realized the danger, it was too late. The ice hand gathered around her feet keeping her glued to the ground. She was frozen in place.

He raised a hand as if to strike her, and she flinched, covering her face with her arms, but the blow never came. Instead, he ran his fingers through his solid-looking hair, proving it to be as… hair-like as before, and exhaled an annoyed sigh. He looked straight into Jubilee's eyes, and she thought she saw something in them, but then they narrowed and he started circling her. She dropped her hands to her sides, a plan formulating in her mind.

"Jubilee," he tutted, before saying her name again. "Jubilation Lee. It's such a shame. You have such a pretty face. But it's not my fault. You're just too…" he came to a stop in front of her. "Distracting."

He trailed a cold finger along her jaw line, before taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb and turning her face from side to side, examining her profile. Which was determinedly set in a pout/frown* to hide her fear, her glare firmly set on anything that was not his face. He caressed her cheek with his thumb.

"Such porcelain skin, almond eyes." He twisted a lock of hair around his finger. "Hair like corn silk. Beautiful." He made an ice figurine with Jubilee's likeness, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "A pity that it'll all be… gone." He crushed the ice in a fist.

"You're not Bobby. What did you do to him?" Jubilee demanded, fighting to keep her voice level.

"Poor little Jubilee," he laughed mirthlessly. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "I _am_ the real Bobby."

"I don't believe you," she whispered, her voice trembling. She raised her eyes to his, and in the split second of non-verbal communication, he saw her resolve and, was it triumph? He had no time to further contemplate this look as a flash of colorful light blinded him and Jubilee broke out of her ice shackles. She'd been dropping plasmoids silently, wearing away at the ice gathered around her feet with the warmth of the soft explosions.

Taking advantage of his surprised state, Jubilee swung the frying over her head and slammed it on the ice mutant's, and he crumpled to the ground. Amidst the shattering and flying ice, a distinct _bamf_ was heard.

"I thought I heard a – vhat zhe heck-?"

"Kurt!" The girl yelled, whirling. Dropping the pan, she ran over to him, slipping over the ice with her frostbitten feet.

"Jubilee? Vhat -?"

"No time! Just go!"

Kurt teleported them out of the frozen kitchen, leaving only the smell of brimstone as a clue to the furious ice mutant staggering to his feet.

* * *

*Again, it is a pout/frown, but not the cute kind from _Flirt Fighting_. Like serious _gr, I am not happy with this_ pout/frown (Actually, maybe similar to FF, just not same context. And I'm blabbering. I'm stopping now). And I am not writing 'frout' or 'pown' or some other squash. Yes, I am slightly cranky now, if you haven't noticed.

Ugh…*insert tired evil laugh here* I can't believe I'm saying this, but I cannot live off of reviews alone, I need sleep too. And so, I am going to go back to bed now (despite the fact that it is 11:03AM). BUT THERE BETTER BE REVIEWS WHEN I GET BACK!

Love ya all!

J. J. B.

PS, sorry for the shortness of this chapter. I'll try and make the next one longer


	3. Bo Staffs and Ugg Boots

Third chapter up! Yes, I know it's not much longer than chapter two, but I'm trying to work on it!

For some reason, I really wanted to call this chapter 'Strike Two of the Frying Pan', or 'Revenge of the Frying Pan'. Or even 'Revenge of the Frying Pan: Strike Two'…. Yeah, I think that calls for another fic all on it's own. Frying Pan Chronicles: The Misuse of this Amazing Kitchen Utensil Throughout the History of the X-Men. Okay, still working on the name, but amazifying!

Okay, is a frying pan a kitchen appliance, utensil, or tool? Just a question... BTW, I am listening to Shackles by Mandisa. Oh, yeah…. :D

Disclaimer: I already said it in the first two chapters, and after this, I'm not even gonna put in the word 'disclaimer'! But I will admit that I have nothing to do with the manufacturing of frying pans or Ugg boots

* * *

Bo Staffs and Ugg Boots

* * *

"Mein Gott, Jubilee!" Kurt exclaimed, the color draining out of his face. "Vhat zhe heck is going on? One moment, I come in und zhere are pancakes, und you and Bobby are talking, zhen I come back und everysing is frozen and you're freaking out!"

Kurt had teleported them to the safety of his room, and was now pacing back and forth, ranting and waving his hands in the air. Jubilee was sitting on his bed, smothered in three tightly wrapped blankets and her feet in a bucket of warm water, flexing her toes in an effort to get the blood flowing again. She was trembling from both the effects of the cold and of trauma, her feet almost as pale as snow itself.

"And vhat vhere you thinking? Walking – no, running! – on frostbitten feet! Do you _vant_ to get your toes amputated?" he continued, Jubilee's shivering preventing her from interrupting. He then paused, only to resume with an angry question. "And _vhat zhe heck are you vearing?_ Seriously! _Bist du verrückt? Es ist als willst du eingefroren werden!_"

"Sorry," she whispered, the adrenaline giving her energy to fight back now long gone. And though she fought it, a tear slipped down her cheek. Kurt saw this and immediately felt guilty. He shouldn't be taking it all out on her, but he was just a _little_ freaked out.

"Nein, I should be saying sorry," he said, coming over and sitting next to her. He wrapped his arms as best he could around the bundled up younger mutant. "At least you are not too frozen. But vhat happened?"

"I don't know," she whispered. She felt like a child; helpless, needy, scared… she didn't like this feeling. "He was… cold, crazy. He wasn't himself… he said… he said he was going to kill me."

"He said _vas?_" Kurt exclaimed.

"But it wasn't him, something wasn't right!" She repeated, still staring, unseeing, at her feet. "That wasn't Bobby." The words were more to reassure herself than Kurt. Abruptly, she sat up straighter, a determined expression on her face.

"I am gonna get my Bobby back," she stated. Kurt looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. If it hadn't been for the seriousness of the moment, he would've burst out laughing, though he mentally recorded it so he could laugh later… if they survived.

"And, exactly, _how_ are you going to do zat?" Kurt asked after a moment of loaded silence. Jubilee's face fell, then lifted again, so fast that the furry mutant wasn't even sure he saw anything.

"No clue," she said just as forcefully, and this brought a semblance of a smile to the blue dude's lips. "But I can and I will!"

With that, she started squirming around, trying to get free of the blankets binding her. Kurt helped, but when she tried to stand up, Kurt pushed her back down.

"Let me get some cloths to wrap that up from zhe med bay, ja?" It was more a command than a question.

"Fine," Jubilee crossed her arms.

"In zhe meantime, put zhese on," he threw a pair of flannel pants about three sizes too big for her at the girl.

"Thanks, Kurt," she gave a small smile. "Be safe."

"You, too," he responded before scowling. "Don't be so serious! You're acting like ve're all gonna die!"

"Sorry," she giggled, though it was a bit forced. Kurt gave her an endearing smile, saluting her before teleporting away. She pulled on the grey pants, yanking them over her shorts, pulling the drawstrings as tight as possible. It still was a bit loose on her hips.

_Good enough,_ she thought. She turned her head just in time to see tendrils of mist creeping under the door. Her breath caught in her throat as a layer of frost started creeping along the floor and up the door. She looked around for a hiding place, but the only place she could think of was under the bed. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spied the closet. In her haste to get there, she tripped over the bucket of water, spilling the warm liquid everywhere. The frost had covered half the room now, and she scrambled to the closet, shutting herself in with the clothes, thankful that she had a smaller build than most people.

She heard the door open and crisp footsteps as Bobby walked into the room, the ice crunching beneath his feet. He took a deep breath, and Jubilee was instantly grateful that Kurt's teleporting left behind a residual smell. She heard him chuckle coldly, then leave the room.

Jubilee let out the breath she'd been holding and counted to 10, listening to the sound of his retreating ice slide become quieter and quieter.

She tiptoed out of the closet, knowing she'd have to act fast, in case he came back. Coming to the conclusion she needed to arm herself with something better than a frying pan, she grabbed said kitchen utensil and crept out of the room. The frozen hallway floor burned her feet and she didn't have time to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness as she snuck into Remy's room.

Once in the room, she stood motionless, surveying the room. Her gaze settled on the bo staff on the table* by his bed. She tiptoed over and grabbed it, feeling more secure now that she had a real weapon in her hands, though she hoped she wouldn't have to use it.

"An' what does cher tink she's doin' wit' Remy's staff?" A voice came from behind her. Remy's eyes glowed in the night as he towered over her.

Jubilee didn't turn around, but said softly, "I'm sorry, Remy." Before he could know what hit him, the frying pan came in contact with his head and he keeled over, unconscious. With much struggling, she hoisted him back onto his bed and pulled the covers up. Phase one of the unknown number of phases complete. Next step: footwear.

She left the room as quickly, afraid someone might have heard the clash of the frying pan… which she still carried. No sense in leaving it behind if it'd already proven to be useful. She folded the extra inches of the pajama pants under the soles of her feet, trying to protect them from the cold. She wondered where everyone was. Surely they'd have been woken up by the commotion they'd been making.

She opened the door to her room, only to see everything completely covered in ice. She shut the door silently and tried to locate shoes of some kind among the frozen objects. In the corner, she saw her tawny-colored Ugg boots encased in a layer of ice. Bobby had given them to her last Christmas. How ironic.

She made her way across the precariously slippery surface and started chipping away at the ice. Mentally cursing, she glanced towards where her roommate would be sleeping. She didn't want to wake Rahne up, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Before she could change her mind, she swung the frying pan over her head and smashed the ice with a resounding clang. Jubilee winced at the sound, but checking on her friend, she found she hadn't moved, not even flinched. Strange.

She brushed the leftover ice shards off and slipped her feet into the fur-lined shoes, even though they'd been frozen for a long time. It was better than nothing. With this added protection – not quite warmth – she decided to check on Rahne before looking for Kurt.

As usual, Rahne's head was nowhere near her pillow. She was curled up in wolf form in the middle under the blankets. Jubilee shook loose ice off her friend's envy green covers, then swept them back. She clapped a hand over he mouth to keep from screaming, her eyes widening in terror. The blankets fell back over the girl's form as Jubilee staggered back.

She tore out of the room as fast as she could, not even making an effort to be quiet anymore. Running in the slippery hallways, she might as well have been wearing skates the way she was slipping and sliding. She had to find Kurt, and fast. She had to warn him.

Back in the room, underneath the covers, Rahne was curled up, completely sheathed in a block of ice.

* * *

* "Are you crazy? It's like you want to be frozen!" Thank you so, so much to my friend M, who fixed this for me :)

* The bo staff in its condensed state, if you didn't get that. No way would it fit on the table expanded!

Another cliffy! I do hate myself, really. I feel your pain. I HATE cliffies. But I figure since it'll keep your attention until I post the next chapter tomorrow (hopefully) and I need to go study now, it's all I can do. (At least I'm not like those sadistic people who give you a line teaser – now that's just cruel!)

But I do feel I've been doing pretty well, three chapters in one day…. 'Course, I want some feedback, so review! Ideas? Hate the way it's going so far? Let me know

J. J. Bean


	4. This is the End ?

This chapter is long overdue and not very long, but in my opinion, it's pretty intense. The beginning of the end, which will come before Christmas break, that I can guarantee for sure.

You know what I just realized? In chapter one, it says that Jubilee dropped the frying pan, but somehow, it magically reappeared in Kurt's room in chapter two…. Forgive me, just pretend she never dropped it, 'kay? :D

I can't boast that this chapter is totally great – I don't think that combat scenes are my forte; I'm more of a mindless fluff person than actually following a plotline or fights. Do me a favor and tell me how I did, yeah? I also suggest skipping the end author's not and reading the next chapter so you can calm down first before reading it.

* * *

This is the End ?

* * *

Jubilee skated down the halls, arms wrapped around her chest in an effort to preserve her body heat. She didn't bother to try checking on any other residents of the mansion: the doors were completely iced over, and she feared they'd met the same fate as Rahne. She just hoped Kurt was okay.

She found the door to the infirmary, nearly sliding past it. There was only a small layer of ice covering its frame, and she forced the door open. Inside, everything was shining like crystals, the ice refracting the light reflected off the various shiny apparatuses encased beneath. Not good.

She heard a startled yell from down the hall and raced towards the sound.

"Jubilee!"

"Kurt!" She yelled, slipping around the corner. Turning, she found Kurt sheathed in a layer of ice, panic and fear evident in his still-open eyes. About a foot in front of him was a roll of gauze, also encased in an oversized ice cube.

Kurt," she whispered, her breath clouding in front of her face. Her hands fell to her sides as a tear slipped down her cheek and her bottom lip started to quiver. Behind her, a cold, mirthless laugh interrupted her sorrow.

"What did you do to him?" she demanded, whirling to face the imposter, ignoring the tears welling in her eyes. She held the staff up as if to ward off the truth that she didn't want to face.

"Nothing really," the iceman said, a humorless smirk contorting his face. "Just froze him. Nothing big."

"And Rahne? And the others?" Jubilee rubbed furiously at her eyes, not wanting to show any signs of weakness. She glared at him. "You killed them, too?"

Bobby laughed at this. "Killed? No. Frozen – yes. Can be melted, it will just be very… cold."

Jubilee looked at Kurt, then back up at the frozen man. "And what did you do with Bobby?"

Iceman's eyes narrowed. "I told you. I _am_ Bobby. I'm getting tired of this question."

"No, you're not!" Jubilee yelled, edging backwards.

"Sorry to disappoint, then," he said coldly. He flicked his wrist and shards of ice went flying through the air in Jubilee's direction. Without thinking, she dropped to the ground and rolled. The shards embedded themselves in the ice where they came in contact with the ground.

Getting back up, she was met by a barrage of snowball-sized hailstones. Barely managing to deflect them with Remy's staff, she decided she'd need a new weapon – she wasn't skilled enough for it to be of any use to her. Dropping the staff, she took a firm hold on the frying pan like it was a baseball bat. A final ball of ice, now softball sized, came flying at her.

_Now or never._

Jubilee wasn't good at baseball. Or softball. Or tennis. Or badminton. Or racquetball. Or squash. Or even ping-pong. Basically anything that required hand-eye coordination could be counted out. The probability of actually meeting her target would be very low, bordering nonexistent.

She swung and… hit the ice. The vibrations traveled up her arms, but she didn't let go or weaken her grip. The ice shattered, save for the core. It sped back towards its maker at impossible speeds.

Just as surprised as Jubilee, Iceman raised his hand and caught the ball. On impact, the ice that made up his arm fractured, cracks splintering off in every direction like spider webs. But Jubilee wasn't watching. She'd dropped the frying pan* – which now had a large dent in it – and was running down the hall.

She ducked into the rec room, and as the tell-tale _shhh-_ing sound of ice making approached, her leg flew up in a perfect high kick and slammed into Iceman's jaw as he crossed through the doorway.

His neck snapped up and he fell back, his head slamming into a bookcase behind him. Books, videogames, paperweights, and other miscellaneous items rained on him as he crumpled to the ground.

Jubilee watched him warily, settling into a ready position with a low center of gravity, her hands up to guard her torso. She hated to hurt him, but she wasn't helpless, and she wasn't going to act like it.

The hunk of living ice moaned. "Ow, jeez, my neck hurts like crackers."

Jubilee was across the room in a flash and crouching in front of him before she could even consider the danger. "Bobby? Is that you?" She looked into his eyes, the steel grey ones that held warmth and laughter, not the ones that were cold and evil.

"Yeah, who else?" He joked weakly, though she saw pain in his expression. "Jubes," he said, turning serious. "He's not me."

"I know, Bobby," she said, taking his cold hand in hers. "I know he's not you."

"He's not me." He repeated weakly, his eyes drooping slightly before falling closed. "You've gotta stop him. He's not… me."

Then, a wave of cold was sent through her and before she could move, Iceman's cold hand was wrapped around her arm and she was staring into his hard eyes. In a swift movement, his hand was clasped around Jubilee's neck and he was lifting her into the air. She struggled against him, pulling at his fingers and kicking at him.

"But what he didn't tell you is that what hurts me, hurts him," Iceman gloated, smirking. The girl's kicks slowed for a moment, but then she sent a well-aimed boot against his face.

He growled, then turned and hurled her across the room. Her right shoulder slammed into the wall and she heard a sick cracking noise before falling to the ground. The cold had made her numb to all sensation, but the pain was piercing, and she couldn't even find her voice to cry out.

Swiftly, Iceman made his way over to her and once again held her up against the wall by her neck. This time, Jubilee didn't struggle, staring at the man who was not Bobby with wide eyes.

"Bobby," she whispered. "I know you're there."

"He's not there anymore," Iceman growled, pressing against her neck even more.

Jubilee's breath rasped in her throat, but she kept staring at the eyes that were meant to be Bobby's. And it was the flicker of something familiar in them that kept her from giving in to the darkness hovering in the edges of her vision. "No, you're… you're there. Listen… to me, Bobby. Help… me. Stop… him. I know… you can. Come… back." Her words became more choked as the Iceman's grip became progressively tighter. "Come… back… Bobby."

With her last shuddering breath, she managed to whisper out four words before the blackness consumed her.

"I love you, Bobby."

* * *

A moment of silence: ….

And now: whoa. Intense. And then I start dodging the rocks thrown by the readers who absolutely hate me right now. But just you wait and see, you nonbelievers! I will find a way to make you worship me again one day! This story isn't over yet, by the way. I have to write about Jubilee's funeral.

JUST KIDDING! Jeez. I've already killed off Bobby in a different fic, and that was a traumatic experience for me. I do not like killing my favorite people.

And I can say that the frying pan is gone. For good! I promise! I had to resist so hard not to bring it back into the story…. **sniff** I will miss that dear old kitchen utensil/appliance/tool…

REVIEW! …Or this may not turn out to be very enjoyable for any of us…. *insert evil laugh here

~ J. J. Bean


	5. Bobby

Nothing much to rant on about except the fact that I am so totally pumped that I think this is the end! Though it is a really short chapter…. Recently been told I babble too much. So I'm done for now, here's the rest:

* * *

Bobby

* * *

Pain.

White hot and searing burned itself beneath my eyelids. I tried to remember what had happened, but my mind remained blank. I tried to move, but nothing would cooperate. Slowly, I managed to force my eyes open and the sight that greeted me brought memories flooding back into my head with a painful rush.

But that didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Before me, ebony hair fanned from a deathly pale face, normally pink lips white. Her lithe and lively frame motionless, silent on the floor. And the red marks around her neck were the only color I could see, the incriminating prints that belonged to _my hands_.

I pulled my body upright, ignoring my screaming muscles and limbs, focusing only on the girl. My hands trembled as they fluttered helplessly over her, hesitantly sweeping a lock of hair out of her face. Her skin felt cold even to my hands.

And that's when I realized that I was in ice form. I stared at my translucent hands for who knows how long before clenching them into fists and expelling all the cold out of me. And it started snowing. Indoors.

I pulled her onto my lap, but there was no squeak of protest, no giggle, no confident smile as I had imagined so many times. My shaking fingers traced the brilliant marks on her collarbone, around her jaw – and there. The waver of a pulse, unsteady as a baby bird's wings, giving her the life that I very nearly robbed her of.

I didn't trust my hands, but they cupped her cheek and stroked her hair, siphoning off some of the cold, pulling it away from her, trying to restore some of her warmth. And after the longest time, the color returned to her lips, to her face.

Sunlight streamed through the window and touched her face, more caring and gentle than any caress I could give her. I could've cried, her beauty was so breathtaking. Skin like the snow, hair like onyx, lips like rose petals. It could have been an angel I was holding in my arms.

Her lashes fluttered, and they opened once before slipping closed again. And then her eyes opened and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

Her warm hazel eyes, so vulnerable, so expressive, so _trusting._ They stared at me, and I wanted to look away in shame, but they held my gaze.

Her soft lips opened slightly, and a whisper escaped them.

"I knew you'd save me."

I wanted to say something. I wanted to say, "of course", "always", "I'd save you any time", "_I'm sorry_", but the words escaped me. I could only bow my head, resting my brow against hers. The tears finally ran, and they dripped from my eyes to stain her cheeks. I didn't know she'd moved until her fingers, light as feathers, touched my face, tentatively brushing against my skin. She tilted her head, just slightly, for her lips to brush against mine.

And I remembered the words she'd last spoken: _I love you, Bobby._ I'd heard them through the haze that had shunted me to the corner of my mind, controlling me, and I'd found strength. I'd fought back, for myself, for her. Almost too late.

I echoed the words she'd told me and I realized that they weren't even the half of it. That there was so much more to be said than what four words could express. But for now, they'd be enough. And maybe one day, that'd be all we'd need.

"I love you, Jubilee."

* * *

*Sigh. (Don't you love the way I only used her name once, and it was the last word? Rather dramatic, I think) *Contented smile

A satisfactory ending? I hope so. I'm thinking that, anyway, I'm rather content. Love? Hate? Think you could totally have done a better job? Let. Me. Know!

~ J. J. Bean


End file.
